Don’t heed stop signs or lights
Might past the Devil, mid-flight
Two or three times a week

From the bend to the bight
Not an angel in sight
On this forsaken one-way street

Neath the cover of night
Is enchantment and sleight
As the pavement pulls your feet

Though the faces invite
The air is contrite
– Don’t trust a soul you meet

I need to know that I’m okay

It is not enough
to have no news
in the absence of bad news

I’m getting older
and my sight is going
and sleight is getting harder to see

Just let me know
that there’s nothing wrong
…in writing

I crave
the same more
as most

Call it what you like —
A condition
A phase
Character flaw

I still need to know
that I’m coming up right
Because getting older
is not enough